


Gloves

by through_shadows_falling



Series: Supernatural Ficlets [72]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Christmas Music, Fallen Castiel, Gross hand-holding, Human Castiel, M/M, Post-Season/Series 09, Schmoop, Slight Canon Divergence, Worried Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-05
Updated: 2014-12-05
Packaged: 2018-02-28 05:37:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,443
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2720705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/through_shadows_falling/pseuds/through_shadows_falling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are Christmas songs playing on the radio, and Dean's worried that the lyrics hit a little too close to home for the recently fallen Castiel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gloves

**Author's Note:**

> This was an idea that popped into my head when I started hearing Christmas songs on the radio. I don't normally write ficlets, but this was too good to let go! 
> 
> A sort of gift for my friend [Alena](http://peter-pantomime.tumblr.com/) because we were just talking about how we're so deep into the Dean/Cas OTP that we're just interested in the schmoopiest of schmoop at this point!

It was the first week of December and Dean was waiting in the Impala, fingers jammed under his armpits, loving the purr of his baby but wishing that her heating worked a little faster. The drive over to pick up Cas from the soup kitchen had distracted him, but now, parked on the curb, Dean was starting to see his breath in the cabin.

“Come on, baby,” Dean muttered, patting the dashboard before pulling his leather jacket tighter around him. He sighed in relief when Cas finally appeared. From the passenger window, Dean watched him exit the squat brick building, turning to wave at a group of men and women in the doorway. Cas was in an actual winter coat this time, a puffy thing with blue and white stripes, and frankly, it looked ridiculous, but Dean was just glad he was warm. He was human now, and if Dean hadn’t known before, he would know it in the way Cas turned to him, smiling through the window, his cheeks flushed from the cold. Cas pulled the door open and sat inside, causing the car to dip. Dean shivered at the blast of freezing air and waited till Cas was buckled before pulling away.

“Did you have fun?” Dean asked. “Sorry it’s still so damn cold in here. Baby’s not as young as she used to be.”

“That’s quite alright. The kitchen was very warm.” Despite his words, Cas leaned forward, blowing air on his bare hands as he rubbed them together.

“Dude, I _told_ you to bring gloves!” Dean said, and Cas sighed.

“I was going to be inside. There was no need.”

“Cas—”

“Dean, I’m perfectly capable of knowing what I need to stay warm, thank you,” Cas interrupted. “This is my body now, and I know how to take care of it.”

Dean swallowed past a lump, focusing his attention on the road, though the route back to the bunker was familiar. Absently he reached out a hand to turn on the radio. They didn’t get many stations all the way out here – really made one wonder how the bunker got any connection to anything – but there were a few.

Only, they were playing Christmas music.

 _“Angels we have heard on high, sweetly singing o’er the plains—”_ Dean flicked a glance to Cas, stiffening, as he hurriedly turned to a different station.

_"Hark the herald angels sing, glory to the newborn king—”_

“Jesus Christ,” Dean muttered, changing it again. This time, it was Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree, and he sank back into his seat, comforted for the moment.

“You’re quite right. Those songs _are_ about Jesus Christ,” Cas said, deadpan, meeting Dean’s eyes.

“Shit, sorry, I mean, I don’t—”

Cas sighed again, though his eyes were soft. “Dean, please. I’m fine. It’s been months since I fell. I assure you I’m alright.”

“Yeah, well…” Dean said. “Doesn’t mean you need constant reminders.”

“I’m reminded every time I wake up,” Cas said, and Dean could tell from the look that passed over his face that he hadn’t meant to say that.

Dean returned his eyes to the road, working his jaw. They were silent for a few moments before Cas spoke, changing the subject.

"Thank you for picking me up. I would’ve driven myself but…”

“But your car’s a piece of junk. Don’t worry, I’ll have her back on the road. Then you can drive yourself to the soup kitchen.” Dean swallowed again, his hands clenched on the wheel. “Or wherever you wanna go. You don’t…I mean, you’re free to go wherever.”

“I know, Dean,” Cas said, and the quiet, assured way he spoke made any other words Dean wanted to say fizzle and die on his tongue. Silence descended again, except for the soft rock coming from the speakers, and they were just in time to hear the opening phrases of another song.

“ _The Angel Gabriel from heaven came, his wings as drifted snow, his eyes as flame…_ ”

Dean grimaced. “Et tu, Sting?” A sudden choked noise from his left made him scramble for the knob. “Oh man, sorry, Cas, I didn’t—”

But when he glanced over, Cas wasn’t upset. Instead, he was…he was _laughing_ and Dean nearly pulled over to the side of the road to make sure Cas hadn’t hit his head or something.

“Dude, are you okay?” Just to be sure, Dean _did_ pull over, putting his blinker on as he swiveled to face Cas.

Cas had his face in his hands, and his shoulders were shaking. Had Dean been wrong before? Was Cas—?

But then Cas removed his hands and Dean could see he was indeed smiling, wide enough to show off his gums.

“I was remembering Gabriel, when he first spoke to Mary,” he said, and Dean stared at him incredulously.

“Uh, what?”

“The song. For Christmas? When Gabriel told the Virgin Mary that she was pregnant with the lord Jesus?”

“That’s…that’s real?”

Cas nodded. “Oh yes, it was very real. And very important. We knew it was coming, of course, for a very long time. So when the moment arrived, it was…spectacular. The singing was some of the most beautiful I’ve ever heard, and that’s saying something.” He winked at Dean, proud of using the human vernacular correctly, and Dean felt a warm squeeze in his gut.

“So? Do our songs nowadays match the hype?”

Cas’s mouth twitched, fighting hard not to smile. “On the contrary, they make the event sound overly…grandiose. According to Gabriel, he appeared to Mary so suddenly that she struck him in surprise.”

Dean’s mouth fell open into a grin. “No way. Mary…like, _the_ Mary, smacked Gabriel _in the face_?”

Cas let out what could only be described as a giggle. “That’s what he said. Though he also added to me later that his exact words to her were ‘you’re totally preggers’ so I’m not sure his testimony is all that trustworthy. Still, it’s amusing to consider.”

“What did the other angels think about that?”

“They were too busy singing joyously, and I’m fairly certain the story was edited to sound correct, as that was not the version I heard when it was passed through the ranks.”

“Ah, right. Good ole Gabriel.”

“Yes. Good ole Gabriel,” Cas said, his humor dimming.

Dean glanced down. “I’m sorry, Cas. For the way things went.”

“There’s nothing for you to apologize for,” Cas said, shrugging. “He made his choices, and I made mine.” There was a beat of silence, and Dean was waiting for him to say something about his regrets, but instead, Cas met his eyes and smiled, a tiny thing but full of feeling somehow. “Thank you, Dean. For everything.”

Dean was suddenly very hot. “I…What the hell are you thanking _me_ for? All I’ve done is get you screwed over.”

“You’ve taught me so much, and you continue to teach me. I’m very grateful. Even now as I am. No, _especially_ now as I am. I wouldn’t be who I am without you.”

“Cas…” Dean said, but he wasn’t sure what he wanted to say. A flurry of words clustered at the back of his throat, choking him, but no other sound emerged. Cas was still looking at him with that soft expression, his blue eyes full and boring straight into him. Dean felt like he was on fire, and he wanted to squirm out of that…sheer _adoration_ , but though he shuddered from that word, he couldn’t look away.  

There was movement, and Dean gasped when Cas’s hand found his.

“My hands are cold,” Cas said simply, as Dean dropped his gaze.

"That’s because you didn’t wear gloves,” Dean found himself replying, even as he looked down to cup Cas’s hands in his, rubbing warmth into them. Dean couldn’t say how long they stayed like that, but his heart was pounding and he felt far too warm. He was afraid to look up, afraid of what he’d see on Cas’s face. He withdrew one hand and brought it to the gear shift, putting on a blinker and pulling back onto the road, his gaze now ahead, steering with one hand. Cas started to extract his own, but Dean grabbed his wrist with his right hand, and Cas relaxed into the grip, letting their fingers entwine.

They drove the rest of the way to the bunker, still holding hands. On the radio, Perry Como crooned along.

“ _Oh! There's no place like home for the holidays, cause no matter how far away you roam, when you pine for the sunshine of a friendly gaze, for the holidays you can't beat home sweet home._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for any blasphemy or factual errors!
> 
> Songs referenced in this story:
> 
> Angels We Have Heard On High  
> Rockin' Around the Christmas Tree  
> Hark! The Herald Angels Sing  
> Gabriel's Message (covered by Sting)  
> There's No Place Like Home for the Holidays (by Perry Como)
> 
> Seeing as this was so fun to write, there may very well be more schmoop coming! What can I say? The holidays just do this to me!
> 
> Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays, 2014!


End file.
